


merciless

by LetMeLeadForever



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Gentle Sex, M/M, Pining, The Room Where It Happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeLeadForever/pseuds/LetMeLeadForever
Summary: Alexander expected to be torn apart. He expected teeth and nails and bite marks, bruises that lasted weeks, mementos of how degraded he had let himself become at the hands of these men. When Jefferson's fingers found his cheek, they were feather-soft. A brush, a whisper, a promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> are y'all ready for badly written sin? there's implied aburr/aham, implied jmads/tjeffers, and referenced jlaurens/aham! just so y'all know

"Mr. Secretary."

How odd it was that Burr still insisted on using such impersonal greetings after everything that has happened between them. Sometimes it felt as if the last few years hadn't played any part in Aaron's life, as if he forgot moments seconds after they had happened --- the war, their joint law cases, the way Burr used to confide in him about Theodosia. What could have been a blossoming wealth of friendship crumbled at Burr's feet, the man seemingly unable to grasp the concept in his hands.

John's greetings had been so different, the intimacy that bled into every gesture, the spread of warmth as the man's fingertips fell upon his back, the way John sung his name like a prayer. Burr's hands were different when they touched him. The handshakes were always loose and quick, a flutter of fingers, a brush of a palm, before emptiness. _Coldness_.

"Mr Burr, sir."

With a clearer mind, Alexander would insist on Burr using his Christian name, but his mind was clouded with political pursuits, with the upcoming meal that would determine so much of his future; he couldn't be bothered with such niceties. Besides, Burr would simply call him whatever he wished, regardless of Alexander's input. He was sure that most of his comments went unnoticed by him.

Besides, if Alexander had a clearer mind, he wouldn't be making deals with Madison and Jefferson. He wouldn't be willing to sacrifice what he knew needed to be sacrificed to push his deal through.

"And all he had to do was die."

How easy death must seem to Burr. His entire life had been an exhausting dance with death, each just narrowly managing to avoid each other's toes, trampling on the people around him instead. Alexander supposed that death might even come as a relief to the man, his misery ended by the quick stroke of a bullet or a disease, no legacy to cut short. He had a wife, a daughter, a tiny world that seemed filled with whatever Burr's equivalent of content must be. Death stopped his waiting.

"That's a lot less work."

To anyone else, maybe his words would be carved with pity, looking down upon the scattered remains of Burr's life, hearing him talk about death as if it was as common as the weather. As if it was a mercy. Burr wasn't anyone else; he was an entity unto himself, a man not undeserving of pity, but a man who hadn't known what to do with it.

"We oughta give it a try."

A huff of laughter left Hamilton, the weight of Burr's joke falling heavy on his chest, practically forcing it from him, the noise falling dryly from his lips. At least talking to Burr offered a distraction. A moment's reprieve before he walked into the slaughterhouse with Madison and Jefferson, a willing lamb leading himself to the wolves' den. Or maybe simply a lion masquerading among them, letting himself become prey as he was devoured, knowing the rewards would be sweeter than the punishment. Alexander was a master at the art of trades.

"Talk less, smile more."

A twisted parody of Burr's forewarning left his mouth and the man's laugh followed, deep and resonating, as if genuine humor filled it. Alexander tricked himself into believing it did, that he somehow held the ability to knock cracks into Burr's rough exterior, but he knew just how unlikely that was. So many years had passed and Alexander had only ever seen walls.

"Do whatever it takes to get my plan on the Congress floor."

A flicker of something like recognition sparked in Burr's eyes, as if something had finally clicked within him - not as if such mattered. Burr would never speak out openly around it, not when it could be so damaging to his reputation to become entangled in delicate affairs. It was why his eyes had always lingered on John and Alexander, the pair stood a little too close, a little too intimate, but never made a comment about it. Never incriminated himself. If it wasn't so blatantly idiotic, maybe it would be genius.

It would be no surprise if Burr knew what he was going to do. Alexander had a reputation, after all. His rendezvous with Laurens, his odd closeness with André in which Alexander had spent no time exaggerating his adequate beauty, his alleged affair with Washington to climb rank. He had never wasted time in denying the gossip that was passed around like love letters, not even after all three had died, dropping like flies. Maybe Alexander was just as tainted with death as Burr.

"Now, Madison and Jefferson are merciless."

It almost sounded like a warming, as if Burr would care deeply enough about Alexander to issue anything of the sort. It was not in his political interest to keep Alexander away from the Virginians, to somehow convince him to stall the deal. His advice fell flat. It was just something Burr could use later to reassure himself if the deal went sour, if Alexander left the room covered in bruises and scrapes and.... _other things_ , a ghost of an warning, the outline of care.

Still, Alexander, so desperate for attention, warmed to the advice, entertained himself with thoughts of Burr actually feeling worried for him. It was nice, if only for a moment.

"Well, hate the sin, love the sinner."

And that's all it was in the end, wasn't it? Sinners' sinning.

* * *

Thomas and James sat together, chairs practically touching, knives moved out of the way to accommodate such closeness. They made a formidable united front, fierce in their composure, merciless. Alexander sat across from them, alone, unguarded, no one to flank his side. Letting Jefferson be in control of the entire evening was clearly Alexander's first mistake. His second was actually attending the meeting.

But Washington had told him to figure it out. Washington had told him to be smart. Alexander knew he couldn't always get what he wanted without giving a little extra, without showing he was willing to compromise.

"And then you can place the capital wherever you wanted to, it would be completely out of the hands of Washington and I. You'd be getting more out of the trade, especially since all I ask for is the votes..." It wasn't even technically a lie. The two men would be gaining a lot from the deal, enough to look as if it had been worth it, it was just that Alexander would emerge with more. More and more.

"Quiet, Hamilton," Jefferson dismissed, a slight wave of his hand following, as if Alexander was an animal that had gotten on Thomas' nerves one too many times. Alexander bit down hard enough on his tongue to taste blood, coppery and thick, but he remained silent. Relenting. If Jefferson wanted some show of authority to feel as if the deal wasn't entirely one-sided, Alexander would allow him to have that.

"What Thomas is trying to say is that, publically, it would seem as if you've gained more than us," Madison spoke as he always did, vaguely annoyed and vaguely tired, a cough following his sentence as if he timed each ending with when his fits of illness would strike.

There was a time when Alexander was fond of Madison, long before Jefferson had returned from France, where Hamilton was naive enough to consider James a close ally. Things had changed.

"What I'm trying to say is that, publically, you can flaunt your success as much as you'd like. But I think we deserve a little private compensation for all we're about to give." Jefferson wasn't as paced as Madison. He had forgone all supposed politeness to rush to the end of his deal like a child desperate to grasp the rewards. Maybe it would have been endearing if it wasn't Thomas. Maybe it would have been a thousand other things if it wasn't Thomas.

"So, that's what this was all about."

As if Alexander hadn't known Thomas' plans the second he had asked for the meeting. Madison having stayed for the entirety of the dinner had been a surprising, but he supposed he shouldn't complain. Or couldn't, at least.

"Are you surprised?" Thomas asked, draining the last drops of his wine, letting the glass clatter to the table. Thomas almost looked surprised when no one rushed to clean it up, the room devoid of help. Just the three of them. Jefferson and Madison, and Hamilton.

"I --- "

"Madison," Thomas cleared his throat with ease, speaking above Alexander as if the man was so easily belittled. "Didn't I tell Hamilton to be quiet not so long ago?"

"I believe you did."

"And, James, would you kindly tell me what Hamilton was about to do?" 

"Why, I think he was about to speak out of turn, Thomas."

A scoff almost passed Alexander's lips, words threatening to fall about how he had been speaking fine not so long ago and the pair had found no problem with it, but he suppressed it. Years of dealing with Burr had equipped him the ability to hold his tongue, especially when so much was on the table.

"So ready to disobey orders, isn't he? We'll have to deal with that," Thomas' gaze seemed almost bored, regarding Hamilton like some project, an essay that must be written, a paper that must be signed. It was the oddest way Alexander had even been glanced at. A part of him wished for disdain to cover the man's features once more. "You're going to be quiet now, aren't you, Alexander?"

His mouth dropped open, a witty remark mingling with the blood still on the tip of his tongue, before it melded into the act of affirmation, lips pressing tightly back together. To fail at the first hurdle was not something Alexander was known for.

"Good boy," Thomas breathed, smugness echoing through his words. Almost as if the action was rehearsed, and Alexander truly wouldn't have put it past Jefferson, the two men pushed out their chairs, Thomas' legs falling apart with ease. Alexander focused on how much he despised the Virginian accent, thick and heavy, riddled with the worst parts of America. "Down," he instructed, as if hailing a dog, a snap of his fingers showing he wanted Alexander by his feet.

And Alexander did as he was told, forcing himself to his knees, the ground feeling too cold and unyielding beneath him as he bowed his body to Thomas' whims.

Alexander expected to be torn apart. He expected teeth and nails and bite marks, bruises that lasted weeks, mementos of how degraded he had let himself become at the hands of these men. When Jefferson's fingers found his cheek, they were feather-soft. A brush, a whisper, a promise.

His thumb didn't push, nor pause, as it traced across Alexander's cheekbone, touched his nose, finally fell upon his lips. Now he decided to add pressure, pushing down until Alexander's mouth fell open again, his eyes flicking to Thomas' face as he patiently awaited new orders (or, rather, not so patiently, if Alexander's glare could speak on the subject).

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you make me want to....But, I can now, can't I? I can do whatever I want with you," Jefferson mused, some shoddy attempt to soothe his own ego that Hamilton would be sure to mock as soon as he had definite closure that the deal would go through. That Jefferson and Madison would be merciful.

Thomas' thumb pressed into his mouth and Alexander sucked on it without being asked, nose filled with whatever perfume Jefferson liked to bathe himself in, tongue snaking around the digit. It tasted clean, just the slightest layer of salt covering it, and Alexander wished it didn't. He wished that every part of him was as vile as his personality. Fingers curled into his locks, stroking over his scalp, pushing down until his tie gave way and allowed his hair to spill from it. Thomas rearranged the locks until he was content, letting it fall over Alexander's shoulders.

"Doesn't he look pretty like this?" Madison didn't bother to answer, but something told him that Jefferson hadn't honestly expected him to. He was talking for the sake of talking, enjoying his voice too much to do otherwise.

Shallowly, Thomas fucked his mouth with his thumb. He didn't even bother pushing to the hilt, didn't force Alexander to take anything more than the bare minimum, as if he wanted to be soft. Gentle. Alexander entertained himself with thoughts of biting down on Thomas' thumb, watching his smug features arrange themselves into pain, but he decided against it in the next moment. As spiteful as he was, he wasn't an idiot.

"You're doing well so far, look at you. If I had known you were so good at taking orders, I would have done this a long time ago. I'm almost impressed."

Alexander wanted to argue that he had been in the army, he had fought in the war below General Washington - his entire job had been about taking orders. But he didn't, wouldn't, because Thomas wanted someone that would kneel and do whatever he pleased without question. Clearly, he couldn't get that anywhere else.

"I think I'll be more impressed after I feel that mouth around something more substantial." Now Madison spared a chortle, a background track to Alexander's suffering, barely participating but still there to witness his humiliation. It wasn't enough for this to just happen, Thomas wanted to make sure that there was proof, a second member to back him up if he ever choose to brag.

Thomas' hands dropped to his crotch, sparing a moment to palm himself through his breeches, not complaining when Alexander's fell from his face to his bulge. His cheeks hollowed just a fraction, sucking a little harder, trying to encourage Jefferson to hurry. He wanted this over as quickly as possible. His fingers undid his pants with quick precision, as if he was used to such backroom deals, but Alexander honestly doubted such. He had seen the way Thomas acted around girls, around Angelica. Apart from James, Alexander was probably the first warm mouth Thomas had been offered in a while.

Cock now freed from its confines, half-hard (which made Alexander feel rather smug, actually) and pulsing, Thomas' fingers wrapped around it. Just like the rest of him, it was long and thin, impressive in a way that Alexander would never speak aloud. Wiry black hairs spread out at the base, obviously trimmed, such pride taken in his appearance. His cockhead glistened, a drop of precome leaking from the tip, Alexander's throat constricting with the knowledge that it would soon be forced into him.

"Now, don't look so scared, sweetheart," Thomas laughed, hand falling from his cock to caress Alexander's cheek, lust replaced with mirth in such an easy swoop. "It'll fit. We'll make it fit," he promised, fingers tracing across Alexander's neck, waiting for the man to tilt his head up slightly. He did. "You want it to fit, don't you?"

Unsure if Thomas actually wanted a response or not, Alexander offered a nod, tried to curl his lips into a smile around the man's thumb, hoping it looked somewhat genuine. It could be worse. _It could be worse_.

His thumb slipped from Alexander's mouth, tapping against his bottom lip as a silent order, an easy way of saying 'keep this open', as he pumped at his own cock. His now wet thumb brushed against his cock, coating a little strip of it in Alexander's spit, coaxing himself to hardness.

"I'm not cruel enough to make you beg. Though, I'm sure you would, and I'm sure your pretty mouth would look a lot better saying pretty things."

The tip of Thomas' cock pressed against Alexander's open lips, teasing the sensitive head against his flesh, as if he was little more than a toy. Pulling back, his cock slapped against Alexander's cheek once, twice, thrice, a splash of precome dribbling over his flesh. Alexander's mouth trembled with the want to clench, to bite, but he kept his jaw relaxed and steady. Showing weakness to Jefferson and Madison was never a smart idea.

And, finally, finally, his cock slid into Alexander's mouth, salty with the taste of precome, throbbing against his tongue, stopping just before it could hit the back of his throat. There was more to go, but Thomas wasted no effort in forcing himself into Alexander's throat, merely allowed Alexander to adjust around him. In an act of good grace, never one to be unsporting, Alexander's tongue lapped at the head of Thomas' cock, eyes fluttering shut.

"Ah, ah, Hamilton. Open back up. I wanna have those famous eyes staring at me when I use you up," Thomas snorted, tugging lightly at Alexander's locks so his eyes opened once more. Alexander's tongue stopped moving, his features twisting into a sneer - or, rather, as close to a sneer as one could get with a cock pulsing between his teeth. "Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. God, this is gon' be fun."

Alexander's wholly disagreed.

Hips pressed up experimentally, testing, just feeding Alexander the slightest bit more of his cock, as if he was a spooked animal that needed to be coaxed into responding. Alexander's fingers twisted for a moment, slicing through air to sprawl over Thomas' thighs, searching for any perch to balance himself against. Thomas thrusted again, hand carding through Alex's hair to make sure he kept still, kept in place. Knew his place.

"I sure as hell hope to God you're gon' be this quiet all night."

* * *

As Madison stripped Alexander down with an almost clinical precision, as he pressed the boy down on his back against the table, Alexander's mouth was still bitter from the taste of Jefferson's come. As if having sex with Madison wasn't a humiliating enough experience. Madison's hands smoothed over the soft skin of his inner thighs, forcing Alexander's legs to spread against the oak of the table, a no doubt far too expensive accessory for the room. His head tilted, focusing on the fine craftsmanship of such an object, fingers fanning over the cool wood.

Madison's fingers stayed ever clinical as they found Alexander's hole, slick now with something (butter, possibly, from those fine little dishes Thomas had preened about the whole night), pressing and pressing into him.

"Alex," Madison sighed, the same tone a tired mother would take with an unruly child. The intimacy of his first name caused him to twitch, to repel such niceties, to forget about the moments before Jefferson. The moments where Madison and Hamilton had something akin to friendship, almost. _Almost_. "You need to relax. How do you expect me to open you up if you remain so tense?"

Madison tried once more, probing softly, as if his gentleness had been the problem. He failed, and spoke his name again, free hand moving to rub soothing circles against the inside of his thigh. Against his better judgement, Alexander's body untensed enough for a single digit to slip inside of him, pumping him open with talented flicks of his wrist.

He'd done this before. He'd probably done this before with another party member, someone that wished for something from the men, or...or maybe even Jefferson; it was no secret how fond of each other both men were. He ignored the interested little twitch his cock gave at such an idea.

"Are you going to waste the night away fucking him with just one finger, James?" Thomas hummed, his first comment that wasn't incoherent little moans since Alexander had finished sucking his cock. Alexander's jaw still ached, an uncomfortable pain jolting at the bottom of his tongue every so often.

"You certainly took your time with his mouth. Are you saying I shouldn't enjoy myself?"

"I'm saying that you'd have much more enjoyment with your cock than with your fingers."

Alexander bit back any comments he had about Thomas knowing just what a man like Madison would enjoy, because he had been doing so well, keeping so quiet. To ruin it with one stupid comment would be below Alex (not that much, clearly, was below Alexander). Another finger slipped inside of him, scissoring wide enough to stretch him, pushing just a little deeper and curling upwards. It took a few random jabs, guesses in the dark, but soon enough Madison's fingers were pressing against his prostate.

He held them there for a moment, long enough for a short squeak of pleasure to reluctantly pass Alexander's lips, before drawing backwards, focusing on opening him up. Alexander's hand lifted to his mouth, ring finger catching between his lips to muffle any more traitorous sounds that may threaten to spill, and Madison allowed him to do so. A single kind act amongst a sea of filth, as if it would somehow cleanse Madison of this sin. He almost detested James for his kindness.

One hand was still stroking along his thigh as another finger dipped into his hole, quickly matching the rhythm of the others, teasing his prostate with every other thrust of his hand. Alexander bit down hard on his knuckle, blood trickling into his mouth from the intensity, but no noise escaped the confines of his throat. _Good_.

* * *

James, it seemed, was short and thick, and not simply in stature. He was practiced, as well, but Alexander had known that from the care he had taken with opening him up; poor Laurens had looked so brilliantly lost the first night they had spent together, trying to press four fingers in dry.

Madison pressed in deep, deeper than Alexander would have expected with such a length, hands soft as they touched Alexander. They ran down his chest, fingers harsh and cold as they pressed against his nipples, thrusting in time with the movements of his fingers. Each thrust caught his prostate, the slightest brush of sensation before Madison was withdrawing, refusing to offer more. Alexander's hiccups of pleasure turned into moans, louder and louder, until not even the finger in his mouth could quite block out the noise. He resigned himself to looking away, not focusing on the knowing look in Madison's eyes. It could be worse. _It could be worse_.

If it was anyone else, Alexander would have said it was a good fuck. But it was Madison.

Madison, who leaned just a little too closely when he came, lips brushing over Alexander's cheek when the boy decided to turn his head at the last minute. Madison, who settled with such a touch, fingers brushing over Alexander's cock in the next moment, watching it twitch and harden beneath his hands. Madison, who pulled away too early, leaving Alexander unsatisfied and unready to ask for such relief.

Alexander chased after the man in an attempt to fix his mistake, propping himself up on his elbows to follow the man as he pulled away, but Madison had seemed to have lost interest. Alexander's teeth sunk into his bottom lip, trying not to imagine how soft Madison's lips would feel pressed against his own.

* * *

Thomas kept him spread out on the table, but he ordered the boy to curve his spine a little more, spread his legs wider, had him watch as Thomas' curious hands prodded at his hole. It had gone puffy from Madison's attentions, a slight pink blush setting over the hole, gorgeous in its own right. Thomas pinched at Alex's thigh after he had spent decidedly too long admiring the sight of him, just to watch his thigh jerk, just to have those beady little eyes narrow into slits.

"Do you want to come, Alexander?" Thomas asked, trying to mimic the clinical tone of Madison as he fucked into Alexander's hole, but failing. Every word was coated in his smugness, filled with the ever-present horridness that settled within Thomas' very character.

Thomas' cock pushed and pushed, deeper and deeper, past the parts of him that Madison hadn't quite been able to reach. When Thomas' cock settled, every inch now buried so firmly inside of him, his cock pressed easily against Alexander's prostate. Alexander's hips wiggled, an attempt to adjust that left him with a trembling moan vibrating in his chest, fingers trying to scratch at the table beneath him.

"Because I'll let you. I'm not as horrible as you seem to think I am. Course I'll let you come," Thomas continued, so ready to monologue his own thoughts, as if Alexander cared for such ramblings. His hips wiggled once more, testing, trying to tempt Thomas into thrusting into him. The man's hands pressed down on his hips, back flattening against the table once more, before smoothing over the marks he had left on Alex's skin.

"But you'll come when we say so, when we want you to. Not a moment before."

Madison's fingers found his neck, forcing him to crane his head backwards, enough so that the man's cock could slip easily between his lips. In the same moment, Thomas' hand wrapped around his cock, loose little jerks following every thrust of his hips, cut off little moans hitting Madison's cock.

"Do you understand, Alexander?"

A garbled noise left him, his answer swallowed up around Madison's cock, but neither of the men seemed to mind too much, too lost in their own pleasure to truly care about Alexander's answer. Thomas seemingly satisfied to focus on pounding into Alex, the boy kept himself busy with lavishing Madison's cock with attention, tongue sweeping over him in wide licks.

* * *

Thomas painted his chest with his come, drawing white lines across his tan flesh, and Madison followed suit, marking up Alexander's face with the same whiteness. Panting, still letting out desperate whines even when he was empty, Alexander's fingers dipped into the mess over his chest, lapping away at his fingers a moment later.

"Desperate," Thomas murmured, sounding almost impressed - or at least as impressed as the man could ever become at someone that wasn't himself. Alexander preened, back arching at the praise, cock left twitching and unsated against his belly, blurring an ugly red colour from overstimulation with no release.

* * *

Alexander's gaze lifted to them, two figures reclined in their chairs with such ease that it looked as if this was their evening job, watching politicians kneel on the floor, palming at their cocks with harsh, fast movements. A cry fell from Alexander, loud and strangled, eyes darting between Madison and Jefferson with a plea hanging on his lips.

"Talk," Jefferson ordered, thumb falling to Alexander's mouth as if he was being ambiguous. A wave of relief washed over Alexander's entire being in a swift movement, as if some binding spell that had plagued him from years had been lifted, as if Thomas was being merciful for allowing him such a basic right.

"I need, I need," Alex sobbed, voice a high-pitched sob, free hand moving to pinch at his nipples. He swore he could see Madison hide a smirk behind his fingers, but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure of anything in that moment, except he had a building heat inside of his stomach, twisting and churning.

"What do you need, Alexander?" Thomas asked, voice slow and steady, unaffected by Alexander's little display of desperation.

"I don't know," he wailed, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks, lips trembling and reddened from holding both men in his mouth, come leaking from his hole now he was making no attempt to keep it in. It was marking up his thighs. He rocked back slightly, squeezed his eyes shut, took breathless deep breaths. Pretended he didn't look pathetic in front of them.

"Come, Alexander. You deserve it."

And Alexander did, white streaks painting the canvas of his stomach, his body jerking with the movements, mouth falling open to let out a string of moans and sobs. His hand fell away. His head fell forward, landing on something soft, a thigh. Someone's thigh. Two hands petted at his hair, cooed at him, made him feel warm.

"Good boy."

* * *

"...You see, Madison wanted me to bring a crop, whip Alexander's ass until he was black and blue and bleeding all over, but that wouldn't be any fun. Oh, no. It wasn't enough to just break our dear Hamilton, we wanted to ruin him."

Smug laughter filled the room like smoke, choking Aaron as it flooded his lungs. He knew that accepting an invitation from Thomas, no matter how lovely it had seemed at the time, was just as dooming as drinking from a poisoned chalice, but Burr had wanted to cement their.... _partnership_. He hadn't expected Jefferson to invite other people over, supposed friends for Virginia (Aaron silently doubted that Thomas had any friends, other than Madison, who looked as if he was in a constant state of suffering).

Burr didn't laugh. He couldn't be sure, too worried that turning his head toward the man would show his unease, but he thought that Madison didn't, either. Hoped, almost.

Thomas paused for a moment to swish his wine around his glass, pacing around the floor, holding his little audience captivated. He was a talented storyteller, if that was all, because surely his words were nothing more than stories. The depraved thoughts of someone who hungered after Alexander's reputation; Burr wouldn't fall victim to such tall tales.

"We used that little mouth of his first." Sparing a moment to let his words settle, Thomas sipped at his wine, smirk barely hidden. The laughter thinned and stopped, quietness descending, the situation suddenly losing all humor. Alexander, no matter how intolerable, had always been a pretty thing, and Burr had always been so insistent on telling him to be quiet. At least Thomas seemed to have found an actual way to achieve that. "I have to say, I have never seen him quite so quiet. It was a sight."

After a moment's consideration, Burr had to relent his own opinions on the subject. He supposed it would have been a spectacular sight.

"Do say, was he desperate for it?" One man inquired, an honored guest from Virginia that Thomas had been so delighted to invite over. The man practically teetered on the edge of his seat, body leaning forward as if the story became tangible with proximity. Burr envied his naivety.

"Like you would not believe. Never seen anyone need cock more in my life, poor thing. And who are we to not take pity on such helplessness?" A smirk was thrown around the room, caught by the little circle of friends, each mirroring the same look. Burr tried to force such a look on his face, hoped it passed for convincing. Knew for a fact that it didn't even come close. "Kept cooing and purring all night, begged us to fuck him. Cried when we'd said we'd had enough. It was pathetic."

Pathetic wasn't the word Burr would use for a sight like that. Alexander Hamilton, a come covered mess with tears streaking his cheeks, begging to be filled up one more time...He dismissed those images quickly, hurriedly, hated himself for thinking so lowly of a dear acquaintance.

"But, like I said, Madison and I are pitying beings. We let him sit in front of us and touch himself, make a fool out of himself for us. Shoulda seen how thankful he was when we finally let him come. Jesus, that boy. I bet he'd drop to his knees for any man in this room without so how as 'how do you do?' I doubt he'd be able to help himself."

Jefferson laughed so deeply it rumbled like a thunderstorm, and Madison offers his tight smile, and Burr holds bile on his tongue and refuses to let it spill. Because, more than anything, he wanted to be in the room where it happened. Just to see if such things were true.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ anchoredwerewolf for more sin


End file.
